


Barely Even Friends, Then Somebody Bends

by pastelkanan



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura as Mrs Potts, Alternate Universe, Coran as Lumiere, Galra Empire Does Not Exist, Hunk as Cogsworth, Keith as the Beast, Lance as Belle, Lance is Not Into Beastiality, Lotor as Gaston, M/M, Magic, Pidge as Chip, Shay as the friendly wardrobe, Slav as Maurice, Title changed from 'the beauty and the beast' as of March 30th
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelkanan/pseuds/pastelkanan
Summary: A prince is cursed to be a horrendous beast until he learns how to love, a boy's uncle is imprisoned, and the boy makes a deal with the Beast: his uncle regains his freedom in exchange for his own.And the Beast wonders, could this boy be the one to break the curse?





	1. Prologue - The Prince and the Beggar

   Once, on a planet far, far from Earth, there lived a prince. His castle ruled a region in which people of all races came togetherーhuman, Altean, Galra, and anyone else who chose to settle there. Though welcoming, the population remained small, for there were rumors of a horrible witch slinking through the woods. A witch who viewed her magic as a game and was quick to deal judgment and pass out curses rather than cards. The prince did not despair at rumors nor the small numbers that lived within his borders, for who were they but mere peasants, commoners who knew nothing of the world but their crops and their cattle?

   Then, on a cold, stormy night, there was a knock at the great castle doors. When the prince, who was handsome and strong in his youth, opened the door, he was greeted by a hunched and withered beggar woman. Her long gray hair spilled out from underneath the hooded cloak she wore, a hideous sight to the vain prince and his long, pitch black hair he cared for diligently.

   The beggar woman reached into her cloak and withdrew a single red rose. She held it out to the prince and offered it as payment for but one night in the castle, where she would be sheltered from the storm. The prince, young and conceited, scoffed at the old woman and turned down her offer. She persisted, warning him that not all beauty was shown on the outside. He refused her entry once more and began to close the door on her, ready to forget about the encounter entirely. A terrible chill had begun to sneak into the warmth of the castle as he had humored this woman.

   Before the door was shut, a great light burst just outside. He gasped in shock and flung the door once again just in time to see the woman’s appearance change drastically, from old and haggard to young and beautiful. He fell to his knees and begged for her forgiveness, but it was too late for him. She had decided his punishment.

   She cursed the prince, turning him into a hideous beast, scarier looking than even the toughest of Galra merchants that occasionally passed through and frightened the townsfolk. He grew to an abnormally large size and his hands and feet grew into clawed paws, his beautiful black hair spread into a carpet of fur that took on a dark purple tinge, and his usually dark eyes changed to glowing yellow with but a blink. The others who lived in the castleーservants, mostly, who had pledged themselves to taking care of the young princeーwere also placed under her spell, changed from their natural states into those of household objects.

   The rose she had offered him as payment was also proven to be more than it seemed. With what could only be described as a magical _poof_ , the flower which had looked like one picked off the side of the road transformed into a glittering, crystal-like rose. The enchantress stared at the newly created beast and dealt her judgment.

   Enchanted, the rose would bloom until the prince was twenty-one years of age, at which point it would then slowly begin to lose its petals. If the prince learned to love another and be loved in return, the spell would be broken and he and the rest of the castle would return to their natural forms. If he didn't, however, he was doomed to live as a beast until the end of time.

   The enchantress turned her back on the castle and the cries of the prince, leaving him only with the rose and a magical mirror which would allow him to see anywhere in the world. In his rage and shame, the prince tore apart the furniture in his living quarters, smashed the mirrors upon the walls, and ripped through his portraits with his sharp, newly grown claws.

   Placed in a glass case on a table in front of the entrance to the prince’s grand balcony, the rose began to bloom.


	2. Interior Flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy always dreamed of grand things, grand lives away from the small towns he had always lived in. He never knew that the grandest things in the world were often the most intimidating.

   Lance looked across the stone bridge to the town, dreading today’s trip. If he knew anything about anything, he'd be harassed again as he walked through the streets. He sighed and tucked his book into the basket he carried, telling himself that maybe, just _maybe_ , he'd get his daily shopping done before anyone noticed him there. Before _he_ noticed him there. A guy could hope.

   He started across the bridge, humming and singing softly to himself as he went. All things considered, the town was a nice little place. The cobblestone streets were clean and neat, so much so that one could forget the endless traffic they saw year round from the townspeople and traveling merchants.

   Every day in this town seemed to pass just the same as the last. He woke up, he ate breakfast, he came into town for the daily errands. The town was always just waking up as he did, all of them ready to face their days with smiles on their faces. Like they were completely content to repeat the same mundane tasks day after day. Already the streets were beginning to fill with others going about their business, all rushing around like there wasn't enough time to do it all before the sun went down. He knew for a fact that half of the people rushing had incredibly short lists of chores and were just horribly impatient.

   Walking with his head down, trying not to bring any unnecessary attention to himself, he found himself repeating “excuse me” and “pardon me” more times than he cared to count. He turned one last corner and came face-to-face with the place he was looking for, his favorite place in town. The red brick and the green window shutters and the flower boxes had come to look like a home away from home.

    He ducked into the bookshop as quickly as the daily crowd would allow him to, shutting the door firmly behind him and taking a deep breath before letting it out in a contented sigh.

   “Ah, Lance!” the shopkeeper called from behind the counter at the back of the store. “You already finished that one?”

   The bookshop doubled as a library, though only for a select few people the shopkeeper liked. Lance was a loyal customer when he had the funds, as well as a loyal library patron, coming by every day or two to return a book and pick up another one. With his uncle working so hard on his newest invention lately, he had even more time on his hands than usual. His uncle preferred to work alone and it wasn't yet harvesting time for their vegetables, so he retreated to his room and flopped down on the bed to read until his uncle was done working for the day.

   The shop was small and a bit cramped; physical books were a bit of a rarity around there, not because people didn't like to read, but because technology made books available on anyone’s handheld, pocket sized devices. The town was generally old fashioned in appearance and slow paced in comparison to other towns in the area, but it was still on a technologically advanced planet. Lance had read the histories long ago, histories telling the stories of how, once upon a time, travelers from this planet explored the universe and found Earth. That they took several thousands of humans from around the world and hauled them back to their home, originally as slaves or pets, before the human population rebelled and fought for their rights on this strange planet they couldn't escape from.

   That was how Lance got there. Well, Lance’s ancestors, anyway. It had been a few thousand years since that all happened. One of the many changes that had happened in that time was that physical books fell out of almost entirely out of circulation as digital books took their place. Which was fine, of course. Lance wasn't one to judge how people read, just as long as they were reading. Still, he could never quite wrap his head around why people didn't still collect shelves of books. There was nothing like a full library, like sitting surrounded by stacks of books and feeling at peace.

   That was why he always visited the bookshop before he went anywhere else in town, every single day. There was nowhere else that he loved so much as that shop.

   “Of course,” Lance replied, walking over to the wall and placing the book back on the shelf he had gotten it from the previous day. “Slav was down in the basement all day and I didn't have anything else to do, so.” He climbed the ladder and scanned the shelves. “You get anything new?”

   The shopkeeper was an aging human man, pale, wrinkled, with tired eyes and a bush of gray hair on top of his head. “The next shipment still hasn't come in, I’m afraid,” he said, walking over to stand by the ladder. “Did you enjoy that book?”

   “Yeah, of course I did.” He smiled down at the shopkeeper. “It was _really_ good. Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

   “I'm always happy to lend you books. No one else visits as much as you do.”

   Lance pulled another book off the shelf. “Mind if I take this one for awhile?”

   “Haven't you read that one before?”

   “Well, yeah, like, three times. It's the best.” He hopped down from the ladder. “I mean, the heroine is so _cool_ and her sidekick is so funny and the antagonist is so _evil_ andー”

   The shopkeeper chuckled. “Why don't you keep it, then?”

   Lance sighed. “I don't have any personal spending money until we’ve harvested and sold this crop. I just take the money for daily shopping every day.”

   “Keep it. I insist.” The shopkeeper smiled in the nice way only old folks could. “You deserve it. It's a gift, son. Keep it.”

   A massive grin spread across Lance’s face. “Really? I can just… have it?”

   “Yes, yes, that's what I said.”

   The shopkeeper had lived a long time, met a lot of people, been to a lot of places, and heard a lot of thanks and apologies. The thanks he got from Lance had to be one of the more impressive he had received, given the massive hug he got from the boy who seemed like he would be at the age where hugs were revolting. Lance practically skipped out of there, holding the book tight against his chest before tucking it into his basket and carrying on.

   The rest of Lance’s errands went quickly. He stopped at the baker’s and grabbed some bread rolls, the butcher for meat for dinner, and the local chicken farmer for a half dozen eggs. And, somehow, _he_ was nowhere to be seen. It was a very good day so far indeed.

   The absence of that nuisance made Lance feel at ease in a way he only ever felt at home. He took his time walking down the road, waving at people and returning the greetings they gave to him. Honestly, he usually just pretended he hadn't heard them some of the folks around there took any little chance they could get to pull someone in and tell them a long, boring story. But maybe it wouldn't be so bad to hear a story from someone now and again. He even took the time to sit down at a fountain and opened the book he had been given, taking a break from his errands to read through the first chapter.

   All was going perfectly well until he started home. The weather was flawless, a gentle sun shining down and warming Lance’s face as a soft breeze ruffled his hair. It was the kind of day that was a shame to waste, but he did have to head home eventually to check in on his uncle down in the basement. Slav wouldn't eat breakfast or lunch unless Lance brought him his meals; he was too stubborn to ever stop working until evening when it was time for dinner.

   Then the sound echoed through the streets: the shot of a gun he knew all too well. There was a squeal from a nearby child and a bird fell from the sky, landing with a soft thud not far behind. He walked a little faster, thinking that if he could just get to the bridge before he saw himー

   A hand landed on Lance’s shoulder and stopped him dead in his tracks not twenty feet from the bridge. “Hello, Lance,” Lotor said and Lance could swear he heard the smile in his voice. “Do you suppose you spare a moment for me?”

   Lance sighed in defeat and turned to face the half-Galra, half-Altean man who had been chasing after him ever since he and Slav had moved to town three years ago. “Good morning, Lotor,” he said politely as he could manage. “How are you today?” Not that he cared.

   “Much better, now that I've seen your face again.” Lance held back a groan. Lotor didn't need to try to win the affections of several local girlsーand a few local boys, tooーbut he worked too hard to try to win Lance’s heart, too. It wasn't working. “Would you like to accompany me to breakfast?”

    _Ugh_. “I, uh, have to get back home, actually. Maybe next time.”

   “Oh, don't be so stubborn,” Lotor insisted, moving to a position where he could put his arm around Lance’s shoulders instead of just barely touching him. He started to walk back towards town, taking Lance with him. “It's on me. We can go wherever you want.”

   Lance broke out of Lotor’s grasp in one swift movement. Not today, nope, he wasn’t gonna deal with this today. “ _No_ ,” he said. “I have to get home to my uncle.”

   It wasn't that Lotor wasn't handsome, because, well, he was. He was tall and lean, strong and refined, with beautiful long hair and beautiful long fingers. But for all of his charms, he was arrogant, demanding, spoiled, selfish… his exterior appeals just weren't enough to make up for his internal flaws.

   As he walked away from Lotorーwho was effectively stunned for the moment; _nobody_ turned him down like that and got away with itーhe knew he heard one of Lotor’s numerous fans throwing curses at him. He rushed home without another pause.

 

*

 

   Slav was underneath his machine when Lance descended into the basement after making breakfast for the two of them. It was a long and complicated story as to how Lance, a human boy, got Slav, an _alien_ , as his uncle, but there they were. Slav wiggled out from underneath the machine and stretched his arms, all of them. “You're just in time for a test!” he exclaimed when Lance walked in. “Just set that over there, would you? I'll get to it in just a moment.”

   “How many tests is this now?” Lance asked as he put Slav’s plate of eggs and toast down on his work table. He leaned against the wall next to the table and started eating his.

   “Seventy-two,” Slav replied. “I examined all the possibilities and I think this might be the one, yes.”

   Honestly, Lance had no idea what this contraption was for, but Slav had been working on it for several months now to get it ready for the inventor's convention in the nearest city. A convention that was the day after tomorrow. Slav was in serious crunch time now. Lance swallowed his mouthful and held his breath as Slav pulled the lever and watched his machine work. Apparently, it did what Slav wanted it to, because the next thing Lance knew he was grinning and laughing and saying that this year would _definitely_ be the year he won a prize at the convention. Lance continued to pretend that he had the slightest idea of what it did as he congratulated and hugged his uncle in celebration.

   After his daily encounter with Lotor, he wasn't sure he could handle it if Slav set about giving him an in-depth explanation of what the machine did. Especially when he was already supposed to know, considering the several times his assistance had been required. So he made no mention that he didn't know what the thing was actually doing. Well, no matter. Slav had done it, whatever it was. That was cause for pride.

   And after dinner that evening, Lance helped Slav put his invention on their wagon that Laika would haul all the way to the city the next morning. Even though the convention wasn't until the day after Slav would arrive, he insisted on leaving early. Just to be sure that he got there on time. There were several thousands of alternate realities where he didn't make it there in time, after all, and he was determined to make sure that this wasn't one of them.

   Truthfully, Laika was actually more of an oversized dog than a horse, but neither Slav nor Lance could ever so much as consider replacing her with an _actual_ horse. She was part of their weird little family, a gift they had received from their neighbor/Lance's-best-and-only-friend Shiro before they left that town and moved to this one. Laika even slept in the house, usually shoving someone out of their bed so she could sleep on it. Such was life with an oversized alien dog creature.

   Lance may have grown up on that planet, but he was still human. To a human, everyone around him that wasn't also human was some kind of alien. It was a way of thinking that he couldn't break.

   After a good night’s sleep, Slav and Laika set off for the city and the convention early the next morning, long before Lance even woke up. When he did wake up and go downstairs, he found breakfast waiting for him on the table with a note from his uncle that said he would be back whenever he could be and that Lance may have to reheat breakfast. Which he did. He ate slowly, then headed back to his room to read. The book took his mind off of his worries that Slav would get lostーhe didn't exactly have the best sense of directionーand allowed him to just sit back and relax. But he never stopped hoping that his uncle would arrive at the convention safely.

   It was evening when he heard frantic _yupping_ from the lawn. Lance looked out the window and his stomach felt like it suddenly weighed fifty pounds when he saw Laika there, panicked and scared, with Slav nowhere to be seen. He didn't bother to mark his place in the book before he ran out to meet her, to hug her and calm her, down to unhitch the wagon and say, “Take me to him.”  
   The only reason she would be back alone was if something had happened. Something horrible had happened to his uncle and he had to _find him_ and _help him_ if there was still time.

   Lance had parents, yes, but they had decided when he was very young that he would be better off living with his uncle Slav than he would be with them. Slav told him stories about them, saying that they were wild folk and not the kind of people who would ever be happy trying to settle down and raise a child in a steady environment. They were good people, yes, he said, but they would not have been excellent parents. Slav’s wifeーLance’s auntーhad fallen horribly ill before Lance was born, and she had not been able to pull through. And despite what would result in a lack of a mother figure, even though the sister Lance’s mother loved so much was lost, Slav was entrusted with Lance’s childhood.

   And he raised him well. Lance jumped on Laika’s back and _ordered_ her to take him to where Slav was instead of asking her to like he usually would. Lance wasn't typically a very stern person as he much preferred flirting with people to ordering them about, but he couldn't afford to be gentle now. His voice was low and demanding, so much so that even he still-frightened yupper knew to obey and take him out into the woods. She retracted her steps dutifully, quickly. Just the way Lance told her to. Her vocalizations may have been limited to _yup_ and nothing else save for a growl once in awhile, but she was smart as she could possibly be.

   His heart raced as Laika ran through the forest, panting and occasionally _yupping_ as she went. Slav was a bizarre man, always calculating the probability of his survival and/or success before he did _anything_ , seemingly relying on the rises and falls of a blanket to tell him the future, muttering about alternate realities almost constantly… Slav was a confusing one, yes, and had a tendency to get on people’s nervesーeven patient Shiro had lost his cool with Slav beforeーbut he was practically Lance’s father at this point. He had played with him when he was a child, cut his meat until he was old enough to do it himself, patched up his scrapes and cuts, taught him everything he needed to know about the world. If something awful had happened, if Lance lost his uncle, he didn't know what he'd do. He couldn't. He just couldn't. He pushed Laika to run as fast as she possibly could, mind racing as ideas of what horrible things could have happened to Slav.  
   Which awful possibility Slav always worried about had come true?

   Laika suddenly slowed as they passed under the bare branches of dark, dying trees. He swallowed hard and gathered all of his courage. Pushed onwards. The dirt path underfoot slowly gave way to cracked stone, leading to a great wrought iron gate. Through the bars of the gate he could see a long stone bridge, far more daunting than the gentle bridge over the creek he passed over on his way to town every day. The bridge spanned across a deep chasm he couldn't see the bottom of. He was willing to bet that the only thing down there was darkness and death. The gate stood slightly ajar, and there, on the ground in front of it, was the hat Slav had left the house wearing.

   He jumped off Laika’s back and ran to pick up the hat, then holding it close to his chest. He slowedly looked up, past the gate and across the bridge, at the enormous castle that rose up to scrape the sky itself. His breath caught for a moment as he took in the sight. Fear made its attempt to root his feet to the ground. Even though there was no monster in front of him, his fight-or-flight instinct was desperately clawing to kick in. He stood, walked back to Laika, and crawled onto her back. He ordered her forward.

   She gently nudged the gate open with her muzzle and padded softly out onto the bridge, all but slinking as they crossed. Her eyes never stopped scanning the area. Lance held tight to the shaggy fur of her back. She stopped in the courtyard before the castle doors and sat down, refusing to go any further even though Lance told her to. He groaned and hopped off. He gently placed Slav’s hat on Laika’s head for safekeeping, then approached the massive doors, wood decorated with black iron.

   He knocked on the door. It swung open at his touch.

   Okay. He was probably gonna die here, but his need to find his uncle combined with his curiosity made for a hell of a reason to go in anyways. “Uh, hello? Anyone home?” he asked, taking a small step inside. “Hello?”

There was no answer. Feeling a little bolder, he walked further in. He called out again, louder this time, “Hello?”

   A chill ran down his spine. He could have sworn he heard whispers, nearby and yet indistinct. Whispers talking about him, about his entrance into the castle, he thought. But beyond that, from somewhere deep within the castle, he heard a familiar voice. A voice he knew, one he had lived with for as long as he could remember.

   He took off running towards to voice of his uncle Slav, calling out as he took the stairs two at a time. Clouds of dust raised where he touched the bannister, spider webs in the corners trembled as he ran past, the heavy fall of his feet echoed through the empty castle. He did not stop running. Up, up, up. The stairs kept spiraling upward, eventually leveling out at another landing. There was a single door at the end of the long hallway that stretched out in front of him. His legs burned as he ran, his lungs screamed, begging for him to _stop_ _running_ , but he pushed himself to keep going. He wasn't used to running so much and it just might kill him if he ran another step but his uncle was just behind that door and there was no way he was leaving this old place without him.

   He grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open without hesitation. The room Slav’s voice emanated from was set about three stairs lower than the rest of the level, for whatever reason, but how could Lance dwell on the bizarre architecture when he could see a pair of his uncle’s hands reaching out through the bars of a cell?

   He ran to the cell and grabbed Slav’s hands. “God, are you okay? What happened?”

   “There's no time to explain,” Slav replied. His frantic tone scared Lance in a way he had never been scared before; Slav had always been all over the place, talking frantically and sounding panicked when absolutely nothing was wrong. But this? No, this was real. This was a genuine terror. “You-You must leave! Now! Quickly, quickly, before he finds you. The odds of us both escaping from here alive are… quite dismal.”

   The fact that he didn't give a precise number was even more concerning. “No, no, I won't leave you here. I'll get you out, I promise.” He looked around the room, searching for a key that may be hanging somewhere. He found nothing but dust. Who _lived_ here? What kind of asshole didn't dust their castle? The only feature in the room that wasn't dust was the torch mounted on the wall next to the cell door.

   Slav, the one who was always so concerned with self-preservation and alternate realities and his crazy inventions and the probability of events, resigned himself to his fate. “I have lived my life. You must go before he takes yours, hurry!” Lance refused again, interrupting to say, “Not without you!” In response, Slav raised his voice to that horrible fatherly tone that Lance had always had trouble disobeying. “Lance, I'm telling you toー”

   The order was left unfinished, cut off by a very unmanly noise of terror. Lance looked back in the direction Slav stared, back towards the door, and almost let out a noise of his own.

   The shadowy outline of a massive creature now stood in the doorway, staring down at where Lance crouched on the floor, grasping his uncle’s hands. The creature growled. It had yellow glowing eyes, the kind that would strike fear into the bravest of hearts. Lance would be lying if he said he didn't almost wet himself.

   And then it spoke. “How did you find this place?” Even considering its massive form, the voice wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was deep and rough and forceful, but not as scary as it might have been.

   “Let my uncle go,” Lance said.

   “He trespassed here. He is my prisoner now.”

   “I'm sure he had a good reason! You can't just _imprison_ people!”

   “Answer the question!” the creature yelled. “How did you find this place?”

   Lance swallowed. “That doesn't matter. J-Just let me take him home and we’ll never come back, okay? I swear.”

   The creature growled again, more menacing this time. Deadlier. “No.”

   He looked at Slav, to the creature, and back again. He closed his eyes tight and leaned his head against the bars. “If I take his place, will you let him go?”

   Slav gasped, an unfamiliar sound from him. “Lance, don't!”

   “You would do that for him?” the creature asked. “You'd… take his place here so that he can be free?”

   Lance sighed. Looked back at the creature. “Yes. Let him go, and I will stay here in his place.”

   The creature stepped forward into the light of the flickering torch on the wall. Lance’s breath left him when he saw the creature in front of him.

   It rose to its hind legs, reaching up at least eight feet tall. Thick fur so black it was almost purple covered itsーno, _hisー_ body. The eyes looked even more menacing when put in context with the body, with the snout and the fangs and the claws andー

   Oh, he really was going to die here, wasn't he?

   The Beast in front of him shoved him out of the way, ripped open the cell door, and grabbed Slav by the throat. He marched out of the room, practically dragging Slav along, all the way back down the stairs to the front door. Lance followed the Beast, far enough to see him throw Slav outside and order him to return to the village.

   The slam of the grand door sent him running back to the prison, into the darkest corner of the cell his uncle had been in just moments before.

   He closed his eyes and curled into a ball. The Beast returned. He didn't see him, no, he refused to look up at the monster. But he heard him. “You didn't even let me say goodbye.”

   The Beast scoffed. “He said your name was Lance, right?”

   “Yeah.”

   “Aren't you going to ask for my name?”

   “No.”

   He nearly jumped out of his skin when the Beast rattled the cage door. “My name isーwell, wasー”

   “I don't care!” Lance yelled, finally looking up. “Why would I care what your name is? You're a _monster_ and I don't want anything to do with you!”

   He regretted saying that when the Beast stepped into the cell with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two will be underway tomorrow! I dunno when I'll have it ready because of some personal things, but more is coming sooner or later~  
> If anyone is interested, I'm @idolisedkanan on Twitter!


	3. Then I'll Starve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beast is slightly kinder than the boy thought he may have been, but as far as the boy is concerned, he is still naught but a Beast. He finds soon enough that the castle holds more surprises than he thought it could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a little while to get this done because I've been trying to get ready for my ACT test later this month, but I got it done! I hope it's somewhat worth it.

   The Beast grabbed Lance by the arm and pulled him up. “Come with me,” he ordered, “unless you prefer to live in this cell.”

   Lance wrenched his arm free of the Beast’s grip. “I can follow without you dragging me.

   If the Beast had visible pupils, Lance would have been able to see him roll his eyes. “Just come with me.”

   He led Lance out of the prison room. As he followed behind, Lance couldn't help but think about how much he'd like to escape from those dusty halls. The Beast paused only once, just to grab a candelabra from a small alcove. Suits of armor lined the walls and flickering torchlight cast dramatic shadows up behind them. Fear weighed heavily inside of him; he didn't know this place, this Beast, any of it. He had never thought it possible that he would miss his and Slav’s tiny house, the little town, or the obnoxiousness of Lotor who thought he was the stars’ gift to the universe. But he did. He missed them all terribly.

   Perhaps he should have given in long ago and wed Lotor, for at least he wouldn't have been afraid for his life in the rooms of the Galra man’s home. Perhaps he even could have learned to love him somehow, eventually. Perhaps he would have been taken care of for the rest of his life and not landed himself in this position, in this dirty old castle with this mean-looking and rude Beast. Maybe he could have been happy.

   “You're welcome here,” the Beast said in an almost soft voice, like it was intimidating for him to even say. “Y-You can go wherever you like. Explore whatever you want.” Then his voice hardened, went back to that scary voice he had. “Anywhere _except_ the West Wing, you hear me? You are not allowed there no matter what. It's forbidden to you.”

   Lance gulped and asked, “Why not? What's in the West Wing?”

   The Beast snarled and turned on him, bared teeth and furious glowing eyes looking down at him with anger and hate. “I said it's forbidden! Is your hearing in as bad of shape as your mind was when you came here?”

   “Alright, okay,” Lance said, holding up his arms in surrender. “It was just a question. I'm sorry.”

   With that, the Beast resumed leading him through the castle. Lance struggled to keep up as the long legged Beast walked a little faster, more aggressively.

   After what felt like forever of walking down long hallways and up and down various flights of stairs, the Beast stopped dead in front of a door. He opened the door to reveal a bedroom, large and beautiful, all things considered. “This is your room now,” the Beast said. “Since you'll be staying here for awhile. Go in. Look around.”

   Lance walked around the Beast, as far away from him as the confines of the hall would allow. He told himself that he wasn't helpless and that he would not cower in fear before the great Beast, but the piercing stare that followed him was impossible to withstand.

   He stepped into the room. In his desperation to escape the Beast’s gaze, he slammed the door behind him. The Beast growled loudly in response. Lance stood with his back pressed against the door as though to brace it against any possible attacks. The wood shuddered under the beats of the Beast’s paw, sending vibrations and fear through Lance’s body. “Open the door!” the Beast demanded. “I did not bring you here to be disrespected!”

   “Go _away_!” Lance yelled back. Maybe he had gotten a proper room, but this was no luxury. He felt no happiness at the idea of charity from the monster holding him captive.

   There was silence for a moment, and then… the whispers. He heard them again, the same ones he had heard when he first arrived here. What were they saying? They were too quiet, too indistinct. He could tell that they came from the other side of the door, but the door was just slightly too thick for him to make out their words.

   He did hear the Beast let out a heavy sigh. “Would you at least join me for dinner tonight?”

   “No!”

   More growling. Then, “You will dine with me or you will starve.”

   “Then I'll starve.”

   One last growl, though this one was more of a snarl. “ _Fine_ ,” the Beast snapped. Lance heard heavy footsteps walking away from the door. And then there was nothing. All fell quiet, save for a clock ticking in the room with him, the frightened breaths he drew, and the hammering of his heart.

   Lance stifled a sob and crossed the room to the bed, flinging himself down upon it and now letting the sobs come freely. Of course he was glad that Slav got out aliveーproud of himself, even, for helpingーand he would never regret saving his uncle. He had done what he needed to do. He had saved someone dear to him.

   The feeling of horror deep in his gut said otherwise.

 

*

 

   He didn't know he had been tired until he woke up. He yawned and sat up, suddenly very aware of the hunger gnawing at him. Darkness was all he could see outside, the clock told him that it was past midnight. If he had been at home, with Slav and Laika and the crickets outside in the garden, he would have laid down and gone back to sleep without a moment’s hesitation. The loud rumble of his empty stomach had very different plans for him.

   The layout of the castle was a mystery to him. He might get lost, he might anger the Beast, but he needed to eat. Starving to death was not how he wanted to go out, after all.

   “Darling, when was the last time you ate? I can hear your stomach all the way over here.”

   Lance nearly jumped straight out of his skin. He desperately looked around the room for the source of the voice and saw no one in the darkness, saw no silhouettes in the light of the single candelabra on the nightstand. “Hello?” he whispered.

   “Yes, yes, dear. I'm over here.”

   Lance looked in the direction the voice was coming from. All he saw was a wardrobe, big and bulky and greenish-gray, if he had to put a color to it. Was someone hiding in there? He was literally going to shit himself if he opened the door and someone popped out.

   He slid off the bed and walked to the wardrobe. The clasp that held the doors shut was small, gold, and cold to the touch. Giggling erupted when he touched it. He undid the clasp and slow opened the door to see… nothing. There was nobody in there except a few moths that flew out at him and startled him half to death.

   “Oh, you're a cute one, aren't you?” the voice teased. “Please do close the door. I'm up here.”

   Now thoroughly spooked and concerned, his hands shook as he closed the door and latched it shut. He raised the candelabra and his eyes, this time expecting to see some horrid figure perched on the top of the wardrobe, but no such figure was there to be seen.

   He gasped and stumbled backwards when he saw the _face_ that occupied a decorative ridge on the top of the wardrobe. It had eyes, yes, _real_ eyes! And a semblance of a nose and a mouth and a smileー

   “What the _hell_?” he managed to whisper, slowly moving backwards and away from whatever this witchcraft was.

   The face looked slightly taken aback before the whole wardrobe started to move, seemingly nodding and stepping forward. “Oh, I know,” it said. “This is hardly a flattering form. I do quite wish I had been turned into something prettier, if only by a small bit. The feather dusters are quite lovely, but I doubt you've met any of them yet.”

   Lance’s thighs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down. “Y-You can talk?”

   The wardrobe giggled again. “Yes, of course! I must admit it is quite a long story as to how we all got to be like this, but it's not all bad.”

   “ _We_?” he repeated. “There's more of you? More talking wardrobes? A-And, like, the feather dusters you mentioned?”

   “Not all of us are wardrobes and feather dusters, but yes. I believe it's been about ten years since the night we all became like this. We used to be human, you know, as did the master.” The wardrobe sighed. “He's already given you a hard time, hasn't he? He's really a kind man once you get to know him, he is, but it's been so long since a stranger came by that he's rather forgotten how to behave.”

   Lance put his head in his free hand. “This must be a dream. I'm still asleep, aren't I?”

   “If only it were a dream. Then I would wake up and be myself again,” the wardrobe said wistfully. “Anyways, let's not dwell on such things. What is your name? It hasn't yet reached me.”

   “Lance,” he replied. “I, uh, guess you have one, too? A name, I mean.”

   The wardrobe seemed to nod again. “My name is Shay, thank you for asking. That one you're holding there is Coran.”

   More than a little bit surprised, Lance looked at the candelabra he held. “Whー”

   He almost dropped it when its two arms started to move. “A pleasure to officially meet you,” it said. “The master brought me along as he led you to this room. I apologize I was not able to introduce myself sooner.”

   The candelabraーor the person who had been turned into a candelabra, whichever term was preferredーwas mostly gold with bright orange rings around the candle holders, flecked with small blue spots that seemed to have been thrown on randomly, like a dash of glitter sticking to a page covered in glue. It's flames glowed in about the same orange color as the rings, surprisingly constrained to the direction in which the arms moved. It didn't seem like he'd have to worry about anything getting accidentally set on fire, anyways. That was always a plus.

   “You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Lance said in disbelief. “H-How do you guys even move around? Like, you don't have bones or muscles or anything, do you?”

   Coran the Candelabra shrugged. “Magic, if I had to guess. It was a spell that made us like this.”

   How could any of this be real? Magic wasn't real, people didn't turn into household objects, and household objects didn't move around on their own. Did he hit his head too hard on something? Was he actually dead already and this was a very bizarre afterlife? At this point, it really wouldn't surprise him. He groaned. This was insane. It was completely and utterly insane and he wanted to go _home_. This wasn't right, none of it.

   He should've just gone with Slav to the convention. He wouldn't have gotten lost if Lance had gone with him, wouldn't have strayed from the right path and ended up in this awful place. Why didn't Lance just go with him? He didn't even remember if there was a reason or if he had just been being lazy.

   He wondered how Slav was doing. Was he alright? Had he gotten home safely? Hopefully he had seen Laika in the courtyard and taken her back to their house. Hopefully he knew better than to try to get Lance back. That wouldn't do anyone any good.

   “The master has forgotten his manners, I have to agree,” Coran continued. “He would not actually let you _starve_. Come, now. Let’s go to the dining room. We will have a meal prepared for you.”

   There was another voice. “Coran, don't you dare start singing again when we get there.”

   Lance looked around. The ticking clock had been on the same table he had picked _Coran_ up off of, he remembered that. He looked to see the clock, a stout figure of browns and golds and clockwork seen through a glass pane, now tapping what must have served as a foot and crossing what must have been his arms. “Alright,” Lance said. “I'll bite. Who's this one?”

   “My name is Hunk,” the clock said. “And Coran is always getting into trouble, breaking out into song whenever he feels like it. I try to keep him in line, but…” He shook his head in what almost seemed like remorse before he hopped down off the table and walked over to stand by the bed. “It's disruptive and annoys the master.”

   “You all could do with a few lessons in fun,” Coran said. “ _Especially_ the master.”

   The wardrobeーShay, he reminded himselfーstayed behind in the room while Coran and Hunk took him to the dining room. There was a teapot and a small cup already placed on the table. He put Coran down on the table and very, very hesitantly reached out towards them. Just as he was about to grab the handle of the cup, a small white and green thing, just as he thought that _maybe_ these were the few objects in the castle that hadn't come to life somehow, the cup spun around and, just like every other reveal of mundane things being sentient people in a wrong form, startled him to what was almost an early death.

   The cup laughed at him. “You should see your _face_!”

   He sighed and muttered to himself, “A cup is making fun of me. A _cup_.”

   The cup laughed again. “Allura, come meet this guy!” it exclaimed. “You gotta meet him.”

   And then the teapot turned around too, though less suddenly and with much more grace. It was a very pretty teapot, based on Lance’s previous life experiences with them. It was a smooth shade of brown with intricate white lines tracing along its surface, and within those white lines were flecks of blue not unlike the ones Coran sported. “Pidge, be nice,” it said. No, no, going by the voice, _she_ said.

   Lance flopped down into his chair and sighed. If this really was a dream, he'd like to wake up now. And if it wasn't a dream, well, he'd just like to go home. “Who names their kid _Pidge_?” he asked.

   “Oh, no, she isn't my daughter,” the teapotーAllura, he supposedーtold him. “I simply take care of her. It's a long story.”

   “He's not exactly goin’ anywhere. I bet he's got time,” Pidge said.

   Oh, _God_.

   And yet, sitting there and talking to a bunch of people who had been turned into objects, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. They were kind and fun, the kind of people Lance’s town was lacking in. Even if Coran was a bit melodramatic with his tales of the _befores_ and _afters_ of the spell they'd been put under, even if Pidge was _awfully_ mischievous and kept popping tea bubbles at him, even if the food was mostly green and/or gray goo… it was comfortable. It was warm.

   He was able to laugh, even considering where he was and why he was there. He was even visited by a little footstool dog, one that Pidge said was her robot dogーthat she programmed herself, thank you very muchーand his name was Rover. He was _happy_. This was a feeling he had never felt, like he was some part of a family. He had always had uncle Slav, of _course_ , but who else had he ever had? Laika, maybe, but she didn't really count since she couldn't actually hold a meaningful conversation.

   But here, with all of these _people_ , he was happy. He felt good. His stomach was full and his spirits were surprisingly high as he forgot all about the Beast that wandered the halls. When he was done with his meal, Coran invited Lance to pick him up again. He would light the way as Hunk gave him a tour of the castle.

   Lance, of course, accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be working more on this over spring break which just started, so look forward to it! That being said, as per usual I haven't really had this beta'd, so pls bear with me because I'm sure I'll notice any mistakes on my own eventually and fix them lmao


	4. West Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy sees a place he could have never imagined, but he does not think he has the courage to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm so garbage at updating things in a timely manner ;n; I'm really trying to get better about it! Thank you for your patience! <3

   “These suits of armor are from nearly three hundred years ago, worn by royalty during the last war withー”

   Honestly, Lance didn't hear the rest of that sentence. At some point, the sun had risen and was now shining through the windows, though the light was muted by dust and grime. And Hunk. He was a good guy. He had a few good jokes up his sleeves, a few interesting stories to tell, but mostly he had long history lessons about each and every little thing the castle housed. At this point, Lance was sure he would _never_ be able to memorize the layout of this hellhole.

   They had visited a few significant places so far: they started out in the dining room, of course, a grand room with high-reaching ceilings and a long, _long_ dinner table with what must have been no less than fifty chairs surrounding it; the kitchen as well, a more modest space than the dining room, with dingy walls and outdated appliances, but still with no shortage of fresh food; a few nice sitting rooms, a few halls with beautiful works of art hung on the walls, even a music room with a stunning collection of sheet music on shelves surrounding a grand piano. He heard tell of a grand observatory as well, somewhere at the top of the highest tower, looking out over the landscape and into the sky.

   He could barely fathom living in a place like this. How could anyone live here and not get lost every day? How could they remember where everything was? Hell, for that matter, how could they live there without being constantly afraid that they’d break something on accident? Lance was hesitant to do so much as breathe in the presence of the old artifacts and expensive paintings he was shown. Even so, it seemed like everything was in perfectly fine condition and he didn’t need to be so nervous. But he was. How could he not be? He had never been in a place like this before.

   Lance stopped dead in his tracks in front of a great staircase. “What’s up there?” he asked.

   Hunk gasped and ranーin an awkward, short-legged wayーover to Lance and grabbed the leg of his white pants. “You mustn’t go there,” he said. “That’s the West Wing.”

   “But _what’s_ up there?” he repeated. “I just want to know what he’s hiding. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

   Coran cleared his throat. “It would be better, perhaps, if you waited for him to tell you himself. Come along, come along. I hear you like books, yes?”

   That, at least, momentarily took Lance’s attention away from the staircase. “Well, yeah. I like books.”

   “Then come along! We’ll show you the library, won’t we, Hunk?”

   Hunk nodded frantically, pulling on Lance’s pants to lead him in the right direction. “That sounds like a good idea. Come on, Lance.”

   Lance followed obediently until Hunk had let go of his pants and both of them were facing away, leading him down the hallway as fast as their little legs could carry them. They were barely a yard away from the staircase when Lance was once again overcome with curiosity as to just what was up there. He had to know. He had to. When he was sure he wouldn’t be caught, Lance tiptoed his way back to the staircase and slowly started up. He took the stairs two at a time, getting a good headstart on the others for when they inevitably realized that he was gone. The sounds of his footsteps were hushed by the thick plush carpet that ran up the length of the stairs. He smiled to himself as he went.

   He eventually reached a door, surprisingly small considering the carpet and the banister and the details of the staircase. He glanced over his shoulder before grasping the bronze doorknob and slowly turning it. A gentle push sent the door swinging inwards, the hinges creaking as it went. No angered yelling reached his ears, so he took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway.

   Stepped into a hallway, not unlike the one he had been in before. It was long and fancier than any hallway had the right to be, and yet… it was like something out of a scary story. There had once been a carpet there, he could tell, but it was now ripped to shreds. So were the curtains covering the windows on the right side of the hall, and the paintings on the left. He couldn’t help but gasp. Was… was this what the Beast could do? He couldn’t imagine that anyone else had done this, made this horrible mess. He swallowed hard and kept walking. The hallway curved to the right, eventually coming to an open arch that lead into another room.

   A bedroom, he realized. There was a four-poster bed in the corner, the posters broken and the mattress torn open. All of the furniture in the room was broken, safe for a single stone pedestal that sat on a raised dais before a round balcony. On the pedestal was a glass case which held a rose. Lance couldn’t help but let out a little scoff of disbelief. Seriously? This was what he wasn’t allowed to see?

   He walked across the room, careful to avoid the wood splinters and chunks of stone that littered the floor. The rose was nothing special, he thought. It just looked like a rose in a vase, something he had seen a thousand times before. Then he noticed the slight glitter on its petals, the shine on its stem, almost like it was made of crystal. He noticed something else, too. Also on the pedestal was a silver, handheld mirror. He reached out to grab the handle off the mirrorー

   A loud, angry roar startled him and caused him to nearly jump straight out of his skin. He turned to see none other than the Beast, standing tall and fierce before him. He took large, angry steps towards where Lance stood in front of the pedestal. Lance stumbled over his feet in his hurry to get away from there, maybe back through the arch and down the hall and back to his room. Shay had been so nice to him, maybe he could ask her to please please _please_ block the door for a little while. He had broken the only rule he had been given, but how could anyone have actually expected him to follow it?

   His stumble resulted in a trip, resulting in him landing hard on his rear end. He winced at the impact and again at another roar from the Beast. The Beast curled his arms around the glass case, growling in an awful way. “I told you never to come here,” he said, slightly calmer than Lance had expected him to. His voice raised as he suddenly yelled, “ _I told you never to come here_!” Lance scrambled to his feet, mumbling mindless apologies as he went. The Beast looked him in the eye and roared violently. “ _Get out_!”

   Lance nodded frantically and turned and _ran_ , faster than he had ever run in his life. There had been murder in the Beast’s eyes, death on his lips. The look on his face made Lance’s blood run cold as he ran. The screams of the Beast followed him all the way to the bottom of the staircase. He ran. He ran. He _ran_.

   He found his way to the main doors of the castle somehow in his panic, as if he unconsciously remembered the way out and his forgotten memories led him there. He did not hesitate to push the heavy doors open and make his way out into the frigid cold winter’s night. His breath came in heavy pants as he went, his ears telling him he could still hear the cries of the Beast, his heart pounding hard and fast as he went. Through the courtyard, across the overly dramatic bridge, down the path, into the dead woods. The crunching of newly laid snow under his feet didn’t allow him to hear the second, larger set of steps following behind him.

   A branch unseen under the snow tripped him, sent him sprawling in the snow. His clothes, too thin for the winter seasonーwhy had he even worn them at this time of year?ーdid nothing to block out the cold wet ground underneath him. He shivered as a few tears of fear made their way down his cheeks, eventually falling to the snow. He struggled to stand, wincing when he put weight on his left knee. Ah, hell. Had he hurt himself when he fell? He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the village like this, but he had to try. He had to. He refused to turn back.

   There was a howl in the distance. Not quite the howl of a wolf, like he often heard in the middle of the night from where his and Slav’s house sat near the edge of the village. This was… something different, something he had never heard before. Even though pain coursed through his body from its origin point in his knee, he took longer steps in his attempt to run. He kept going, trying even harder to hurry as the sounds of beasts moving through the woods reached him.

   He heard the snap of a twig to his right, taking his attention momentarily away from his attempt at walking. He looked over and gasped, his inattention causing him to step wrong with his left leg, once again falling into the snow. The creatures closed in on all sides then, sensing his weakness and wound. They were horrible creatures, bear-sized and black with red eyes that glowed in the darkness just before the dawn. Sharp claws and long fangs approached.

   He was going to die there.

   One of the monsters, the one closest to him, lifted a massive paw to hit him with. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for impact and praying to every god he knew of.

   The impact didn’t come. Instead, he heard a familiar roar, the one he had heard not half an hour of a desperate escape attempt before. He opened his eyes to see the Beast, larger that the biggest of the creatures that surrounded him. He saw the Beast smack away the creature as though it weighed nothing. The Beast didn’t hesitate. He attacked the creatures with all his strength, his own claws and fangs overpowering the monsters around them. But the creatures had numbers, ganging up on him and drawing blood. The Beast didn’t stop fighting, no matter what.

   He didn’t collapse until the last creature was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how many people by now have started up their own B&tB AUs, especially since the live-action just came out, but I hope they're all doing well! I'm not super popular or in-touch with everything that's going on in the fandom, so I generally don't know just what's going on until it finds its way to my little bubble. In any case, I hope everyone is having fun with this and other B&tB AUs!


	5. I'll Help You to the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, the boy's uncle struggles to get help. The boy's admirer hatches a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAH SURPRISE I WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER TO POST TODAY although it's very short and kinda like an intermission but just go with me here okay

   “Please, someone, help me!” Slav exclaimed, desperately trying to get the attention of whoever would spare it. “You must, please!”

   Lotor swallowed the rest of his drink. “What are you on about, Slav?” he asked, looking over at him with disdain and irritation. That man was always acting like an utter fool, going on and on about nonsensical things and pretending to know the secrets of the universe. If he hadn’t been such an important feature in Lance’s life, he thought he might have killed the man by now, just to rid the world of his blabbering. Well, that wasn’t true. _He_ wouldn’t kill him, no, he would have someone else do it. It wouldn't be hard to find someone to rid of Slav for him.

   Hm. He tucked that idea away for another time. He might need it one day.

   “I-It’s Lance!” Slav replied, practically falling to his knees in front of Lotor’s chair by the tavern’s fireplace. “There was this creature in the castle on the other side of the woods and it took Lance andー”

   Someone scoffed and said, “The castle has been abandoned for years, old man!”

   “You’re wrong!” Slav said. “You’re wrong! There’s a monster there, there is! It took my Lance and it’s _keeping_ him there! You _must_ help!”

   “A monster?” Lotor echoed. “Keeping Lance captive?”

   Slav nodded. “Yes, yes, a Beast! A horrible Beast! It captured me and Lance came in and offered to take my place there! You must help; Lotor, please, I know you must be strong enough to face it!”

   And Lotor _laughed_. “Of _course_ I’ll help you, dearest Slav,” he said, standing up and grabbing Slav by the shoulder and hauling him to his feet. “I’ll help you to the _door_. You'd best lay off the drink and turn on the light next time you go into your basement, you old fool.” He opened the door and threw Slav out into the bitter cold and a plush bed of fresh snow. “Maybe then you won't mistake your horrid _inventions_ for a Beast.”

   He slammed the door closed and was greeted by the laughter and amused clapping of the other tavern patrons. He smirked and walked back over to his chair, dropping into it gracefully and crossing his legs.

   He stared into the fire as an idea started to form.

 

*

 

   The man who sat across the table radiated power and authority. He carried no weapons with which to defend himself, which would have been wise considering his line of work, but his massive size and bony, claw-like hands discouraged any possible attackers.

   He tapped his index finger on the table. “Do not keep me waiting, _boy_ ,” he demanded. He wore a dark red and black suit, his eyes glowed a deep purple. “I have better things to do with my time.”

   “I'm sure you do,” Lotor replied. “My request is a simple one. There is something… ah, no, I beg your pardon. There is some _one_ that I am very interested in. All I ask is that in a week’s time you come to take his uncle away. I have a deal to make.”

   “What kind of deal?” the man asked.

   “He will marry me if I keep his uncle from being sent to a lab for dissection.”

   The man scoffed. “And why would I help you with your petty little plot?”

   Lotor reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved a small bag. He threw it down on the table, letting it fall over and the first gold coin fall out. “Up-front payment,” he said, motioning to the bag. “You'll get the rest when the job is done. Thrice as much as is in that bag.”

   The man scooped up the bag and took his time counting the coins. He smiled cruelly when he was done, for his moral code had long ago been destroyed by greed, and stretched out his hand. “You have a deal.”

   Lotor took his hand and shook it. “I look forward to working with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be back with the boys in the next chapter, don't worry~ Things are gonna pick up from here on out!  
> Also, regularly scheduled reminder that you can follow/contact me or whatever on twitter at @idolisedkanan :3c


	6. A Life for a Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy and the Beast seem to have worked something out. The Beast thinks to himself that the boy is even better than he could have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was gonna be one long chapter, but I decided to go ahead and split it into two smaller chapters to make things easier on myself. I hope that's alright with everyone <3

   The Beast slowly opened his eyes. He was seated in his large chair in one of the parlors, a fire burning in the fireplace and daylight creeping in through the window. He groaned.

   “Are you awake?” someone asked. Not one of the familiar voices of those who had once been his servants, but not the voice of a stranger.

   “You're still here,” said the Beast as the boy stepped into his line of sight. “Why did you not run?”

   The boy shrugged. He carried with him a large bucket that made sloshing sounds as he walkedーno, as he _limpedー_ towards the chair, a cloth thrown over his shoulder. “A life for a life,” he said as he sat the bucket down and slowly, wincing as he went, kneeled by the Beast’s side.

   The Beast said nothing, only watching as the boy dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it out. “I tried to clean some of it while you were asleep,” he said, motioning with his head towards the large, red scratch marks on the Beast’s right arm. “They may scar when they've healed.” He started to raise the wet cloth to the Beast’s arm. “Hold still.”

   Though the Beast continued to fidget, Lance pressed the cloth against one of the scratches. He flinched but did not fall when the Beast roared and yanked his arm away. “That _hurts_!” he yelled.

   Lance huffed in irritation. “It wouldn't hurt so much if you'd sit still!”

   “I can care for my own wounds!”

   “Really? Because if it wasn't for me, you'd still be freezing in the snow!”

   “I only went out into the snow to get _you_!”

   “And _I_ only went out to get _away_ from _you_!”

   “ _You're_ the one who went somewhere he shouldn't have gone!”

   “ _You_ need to learn how to control your _fucking_ temper!”

   After the last line was yelled, the air hummed with a silent tension. The Beast did not have a comeback, only the will to angrily look Lance in the eye. This time, Lance did not shy away from the gaze of the Beast. He maintained eye contact, not flinching, not looking away. They were both vaguely aware of the ones who sat in a corner, watching on. The candelabra and the clock, the teapot and the teacup. Watching. Worrying.

   Lance wetted and wrung the cloth again. “Now _hold still_ ,” he ordered, “or it'll just hurt worse.”

   This time, the Beast did as he was told.

   The purple fur was matted around the bloody cuts. Most of them had started to scab over and Lance could afford to be a bit more thorough about cleaning that blood out, but some of the cuts still dripped blood. Slowly, drop by drop, falling from the torn skin and onto the armrest, onto the floor. Lance was gentler with these, patting and never rubbing, even going so far as to pick bits of dried blood from the fur around the wound.

   The Beast watched. Lance’s fingers were long and thin, moving with precision and no lack of care. His hair fell in the softest of ways, framing his faceーangular and perfectly human in all the ways the Beast no longer wasーand drawing attention to his eyes, bluer than all the skies and seas in the universe. He looked away, staring into the flickering fire. He ignored the flutter in his chest. A life for a life, the boy had said. It meant nothing more.

   He worked in silence for a long time. None of their companions said anything either, only sharing looks and nods that went mostly unnoticed. Then Lance sighed heavily, bending under the weight of the silence and the knowledge that he would be dead now had it not been for the Beast. It was time, he thought, to stop calling him just… the Beast.

   So he swallowed his pride and asked, “What's your name?”

   The Beast looked surprised and sounded taken aback. “What?”

   “I asked what your name is,” Lance repeated. “You were going to tell me once, but I… well, you were there. You know.”

   How long had it been since he had last spoken his own name? Since he had last heard it? His servants had always referred to him only as _sir_ or _master_ or _your highness_. And his parents, how long had he lived without them? They were the last people, he thought, who had said his real name.

   He swallowed nervously. He wasn't even sure his voice could make that combination of sounds anymore. Why had he been so eager to tell Lance when they had first met, anyway? He couldn't remember. But he was going to try to say it now, now that the boy cared. “My name,” he said, struggling with his own willpower to get it out, “was, or, uh, is… Keith.”

   Lance looked up at him in disbelief. “ _Keith_? Seriously? That's it?”

   “What were you expecting?” he asked.

   “Something more royal, I guess.” He shook his head and went back to tending the wounds. “Keith is still a nice name, though. Has a nice sound to it.”

   If he was still capable of it, Keith might have blushed.

 

*

 

   “You've been limping all day,” he said at dinner. A newfound peace had settled between them, and so there they were, sitting across from each other at a table much shorter than the one in the dining room. The table was next to a window, looking out into a garden behind the castle, though the garden was overgrown by now and in rather poor shape. They had finished eating a while ago, and now sat in a comfortable silence that Keith was admittedly nervous to break. “Are you alright?”

   Lance noticed that the Beast, no, _Keith_ spoke softer than he usually did. He took a sip of his drink. “I'm fine. I just, uh, tripped a couple times. Banged up my knee. I'll be okay.”

   Keith shot up out of his seat, effectively scaring Lance half to death. “How did you get me back here? A-And, why have you been _walking on it_ all day? You should be resting!”

   “I'm _fine_ ,” Lance said. “It's nothing serious, alright? I can walk around just fine. And we really weren't that far from here, so I just kinda ran back and got some of the big guys to come help me get you back. That's all.”

   “You _ran_?!”

   “I wasn't just going to let you _freeze_.”

   Keith walked around the table to Lance, gently pulling out his chair. “Stand up.”

   “Why?”

   “Just stand up, okay?”

   It was hard to miss the concern in Keith’s voice. At first Lance thought that maybe he imagined it, maybe he was projecting his own concerns onto him, but the sudden softness of Keith’s features told him that the concern was real.

   He stood slowly, careful not to put too much weight on that knee. He gasped when Keith suddenly picked him up and held him princess style in those _ridiculously_ large arms. “You're in no condition to be walking around,” he nearly whispered.

   Despite having just taken a drink, Lance’s mouth went dry. “Uh.” Then he considered punching himself because he was absolutely _not_ into that kind of thing. He was just shocked, that was all. “W-What are you doing?”

   “Taking you to bed,” Keith replied. “You need to rest. Can I get you anything to keep you occupied? A book or something?”

   “That'd be nice,” Lance replied. He relaxed in Keith’s arms as he carried him towards his bedroom. “Coran and Hunk told me there was a library here. I'd like to see it.”

   Keith nodded. “I'll show it to you once you aren't limping anymore. I'll bring you a book so you don't have to get up. What kind of books do you like?”

   “Adventure books, I guess? I like stories about new places and new people. And humor. There should always be humor in a good book.” He watched the chandeliers above him as he was carried through the hallways. “I hate books that are always sad and depressing. And I hate sad endings. They're awful. I didn't read the entire book just to see the characters I love be miserable, y’know? That's not fair. I don't trust people who write things like that.”

   Even though Keith knew that his smiles were horrendous these days, that they'd be the kind of grins that haunted the dreams of children, he smiled. He couldn't help it. Lance had said _a life for a life_. He kept reminding himself that, but it grew more and more hollow with each repetition. This boy, a little human boy from the village, was somehow special. Somehow someone worth caring about. He had never felt that way before.

   He had been far too young when he was cursed to have ever even had the chance. He wasn't sure how to show that he cared. Yelling didn't seem to be the right way, considering that Lance flinched at his raised voice and cowered under his roars. He supposed he should have assumed that would be the case; he had always hated being yelled at when he was a child, so why would it be any different just because of a few more years? Nobody likes being yelled at. He knew that now. Maybe he'd start taking down a list of things what not to do.

   Rule number one: Don't lean over and scream at someone you like.

   He ignored the throbbing pain in his chest as he remembered the wilting rose he hid away in his chambers. He didn't have enough time left. There were two options left. First was to spend more time with Lance, to talk to him, to fall in love with him. That may not be as hard as he had initially thought, considering the unprecedented contentment he felt looking down at Lance’s face. The second option was far worse, for that option was to do nothing and let the rose wilt. To let himself be doomed to be this way until the day he died.

   Of _course_ he preferred the first option. How could he not? There was a warmth in his heart that spread through his whole body as he put Lance in his bed and gently tucked him in before going to personally pick out a good book for the boy.

   Coran and Hunk had been slowly following behind him as he carried Lance to his room. He bent over and picked Coran up off the floor, taking him with him to the library.

   “Do you really think he could love me?” Keith asked as he walked. He gripped Coran tighter than he needed to, but Coran did not complain. There was a look in the master’s eyes that could never have been predicted.

   Coran smiled. “Yes, yes,” he replied. “You must continue to be _gentle_ , you must listen to him when he speaks. You _must_ consider his feelings above yours at all times, do you understand? He will not reciprocate if you are unkind.”

   “How do you know so much about relationships? What experience do you have?”

   If the fires of Coran’s candles burned people, he may have burned some of Keith’s fur. “I’ve been around much longer than you! I have my charms.”

   Keith huffed. “Whatever. You really think all that will work?”

   “Without a doubt.”

   He decided to trust the candlestick.

 

*

 

   Keith sat on the floor next to Lance’s bed, arms crossed and resting on the mattress next to Lance, head laying on his arms. He remembered when his parents would read to him before bed, back when he was a kid, way back before all of this. Those times that he had been read to before bed couldn't hold a candle to this feeling.

   He could listen to Lance’s voice forever. His voice was so smooth, so beautiful. “They lived happily ever after,” Lance finished, closing the book. He looked out the window. It was dark again. How long had they been there? How long had it taken for Lance to read this book to Keith?

   Keith smiled softly. “Could you… read it again? Or maybe we could get another one, if you want.”

   Lance returned the smile. “Tomorrow, maybe. I think it's about time to go to sleep. It's dark out.”

   Keith only glanced at the darkness outside the window. The warm light of candles had kept them cozy as they read the book. As Keith fell in love with the voice that told the story. He was hesitant to get up and leave. He didn't want to leave Lance. Didn't want to be apart from him. They'd had tiny chats over the course of the book, making remarks about things the characters did or said, and somehow, those tiny interactions had drawn Keith in even further. He wanted to stay.

   So he asked, “Would it be alright if I stayed here tonight? I can sleep in the chair in the corner.”

   Lance put the book over on the nightstand and was quiet for a moment, considering the question. “Well,” he said, “I don't mind, I guess. I'll have to change your bandages in the morning, anyway.”

   With that, Keith made his way to the chair in the corner, blowing out all of the candles except for the one on the nightstand as he went. He made himself comfortable in the chair and told Lance he could blow out the last candle if he was ready to go to sleep. Lance nodded and did so. Keith could hear him readjusting in bed, sliding further down under the covers and trying to find a comfortable position.

   “Goodnight, Lance,” Keith said when the movements calmed.

   “Goodnight, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when I'll have the next one up, but I hope y'all enjoyed this one and that the next one will be worth it!


	7. Little Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best kind of peace has settled between them. Keith decides to show Lance some stunning things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo I got another chapter done lmao,,,, life is hard but we should be wrapping up pretty soon!

   “You heal really well,” Lance said in awe. Keith now sat on the edge of the bed, holding remarkably still while Lance took off the old bandages he had put on the day before. “That's neat. Does it still hurt?”

   “A bit,” Keith admitted.

   “This kinda is my fault, isn't it?"

   “Not entirely. You're right. I should control my temper and, well, I understand that it hasn't been fair of me to try to keep big things like that a secret if you're going to be here with me.”

   Keith had brought him another bucket of water and a cloth to clean the wounds again. Lance patted the area clean before applying a new bandage, slowly as not to irritate the scabs. “We were both dumb,” Lance said.

   “Yeah. I guess so.”

   Lance finished applying the new bandage and nodded. “Alright. You're good to go.”

   Keith stood up and held out a hand. Or a paw. He wasn't quite sure what Lance considered it to be, but he held it out anyway. “Let's get you up and see if you can walk again.”

   He could. Not that he had ever been incapable of walking, as far as Lance was concerned, but a good night’s sleepーand the pillow Keith had put under his knee to keep it elevatedーseemed to work wonders. Even though he was still wary of putting his entire weight on that knee, it was nice to get up out of bed and stretch it out.

   They walkedーslowlyーto the dining room, Keith always offering an arm for support _just in case_ because there were a lot of stairs in the castle and he didn't want Lance to fall again. Lance awkwardly but graciously accepted the support, holding onto him as they walked through the halls of the castle. The halls were empty save for them and the occasional readjusting set of armor or a singular broom going about its business of sweeping, and despite the emptiness, it was far from lonely. Lance leaned a little more against Keith. He found that he rather liked this.

   But he definitely was _not_ a beast-fucker. He just… liked him. A lot more than he thought he ever could. That didn't mean he was, like, _into_ that. Too much hair. Way, way too much hair.

   When they finally got to the dining room after a long, slow walk, Keith pulled out a chair at the table for Lance and let him sit first, then sat in his own seat. Lance settled in and smiled, mostly to himself as he looked around the room. It was different from the last time he had been there. It had been dark and rather cold then, and though he had enjoyed the company of those four, this was somehow different. Sitting at the table with Keith in a room bathed in the soft golden light of candles and dawn streaming in through the Eastern windows wasn't better or worse, just… different. More relaxing somehow, like he already knew ahead of time that he wouldn't spend the whole time trying to keep up with out of context stories and wouldn't run out of air at a funny joke. They were just _there_ , there together, enjoying each other’s company.

   Breakfast was brought to them on a very fancy food trolley, served by a couple of coat hangers and utensils that were somehow capable of jumping around to get where they were going. And Coran was there, of course, making a fuss over nothing. Hunk was close behind to make an even bigger fuss than Coran was making. The girls, Allura and Pidge, did their tea set things for them.

   At some point or another, the kitchen and dining room staff started up a musical number that Lance was sure he'd never forget. It was wonderful, he thought. Even though these people had had their lives turned upside down by that spell or whatever, they still managed to find something enjoyable. They still had _fun_. He couldn't help but admire them.

   Breakfast and tea passed rather quickly, even considering the performance. Keith, bless his heart, followed through on his promise. Lance still walked a little funny, as would be expected, but he didn't quite limp anymore. He had promised to show Lance the library when he stopped limping. He rose from his seat and offered his arm to Lance once again, Lance once again taking it. “Would you like to see the library now?” Keith asked.

   Lance’s face lit up. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

   Slav had never been negligent, nowhere close. He loved and cared for Lance all his life, always making him for him, always doing things with him. Never letting him doubt that his uncle was there for him. But he was _very_ busy. He had so many ideas floating around in that head of his that he couldn't stand for his hands to be idle. If he had an idea, he wanted he wanted to make it a reality. That took time. During that time, Lance read. He read a lot. He loved being swept away on adventures and still being able to close the book to run downstairs for dinner with his uncle. There was nothing like it.

   Thinking of Slav made the reality of the situation start to sink again. Slav was back at home, probably worrying beyond worry about him, all alone. With nobody to take care of him. And Lance was here, suddenly hanging onto the arm of the one who was technically his captor, being sung to as he ate lavish meals. None of this was right, was it? He needed to go home, didn't he?

   Keith opened a large set of double doors in front of them and suddenly all of the thoughts in Lance’s mind disappeared and his jaw nearly hit the floor. He had never seen so many books in all his life. Grand shelves rose all the way from the floor to the ceiling, punctuated only by a walkway halfway up. Rolling ladders occupied both the lower and upper halves of the shelves. If he had been carrying anything, he would have dropped it on the spot.

   He let go of Keith’s arm as he walked in.

 

*

 

   Rule number one: Don't lean over and scream at someone you like. (People don't like being yelled at.)

   Rule number two: Don't put your entire face into your bowl at dinner. (People value hygiene and manners, both of which you’ve forsaken if you eat like a dog.)

   Rule number three: Don't constantly ask if the person you like needs help. (They get annoyed and think you're treating them like a child.)

   Rule number four: Tell the truth. (Even if it's unpleasant, people will always appreciate your willingness to be honest with them.)

   Rule number five: … well, Keith hadn't gotten to five rules just yet. It had been five days now since the events in the woods, and those five days had been some of the best Keith had ever experienced. This was bliss. This was heaven. Lance didn't flinch away anymore, he didn't have any fear left in his eyes.

    Lance had read to Keith, they had eaten together, and… they even shared a bed last night. Not in a gross way, of course. With his body the way it was, Keith couldn't even _think_ of doing anything like _that_. They'd just been up late talking and before he knew it, Lance was asleep with his head on his chest and there was no way Keith could disturb him by getting up and slinking back off to his chair.

   Lance wasn't upset at him when he woke up that morning. In fact, even though he didn't say it out loud and didn't really intend to, he had been kinda happy. He'd never slept in the same bed as someone besides maybe his uncle when he was younger and scared easily. He had always thought he wouldn't be able to sleep like that, knowing there was someone else there while he was so vulnerable, but he really _trusted_ Keith. And he was so big and warm, like a large teddy bear. It was _great_.

   If the rest of the future could continue on the way the past few days had, Lance knew he'd be able to get used to all of this. He'd really settle in some, be ready to live out the rest of his days there. It was a home there, it really was. It was only missing his uncle. He wondered if he could convince Keith to let Slav come back, to let him stay with them. Laika would have to come too, of course. And then everything would be perfect.

   They passed that day by sitting outside, bundled up against the cold, trying to get birds to eat seeds out of their hands. Keyword: _trying_. It generally didn't work. Birds weren't as trusting as Lance had thought they were, but he got the feeling that it wasn't really the birds that Keith was interested in. Lance kept glancing over and seeing Keith watching him, sometimes smiling and sometimes looking away when Lance caught him looking. Lance’s face was already bitten red by the cold. Knowing that Keith didn't seem to want to take his eyes off of him made the cold red turn into a heated blush. He hoped that Keith didn't notice.

   It was evening when the cold became too much to bear and they retreated back into the warmth of the castle. They sat in one of the parlors and ate dinner and drank teaーLance had never been a huge fan of tea, really, but the tea here wasn't bad at allーand talked and laughed. And Lance was happy. Despite everything that told him he should be worried, that he shouldn't be so thrilled about all of this, he was _happy_.

   “Come with me,” Keith said after a while. “I want to show you something.”

   Now that was just a _bit_ confusing. What else was there to see? Surely there couldn't be anything else around here that topped that library. Still, he took Keith’s offered arm and went with him. It had become a habit for Keith to offer his arm to Lance. Lance took it, every single time.

   Lance got the feeling that he could live there his entire life and never see all of the stairs in that castle. They went up farther than Lance had known was possible, then farther still. They didn't stop until they stepped up and out into a large, circular room with a glass dome for a roof. Lance couldn't keep himself from gasping in awe. Beyond the clear glass panes that made up the dome was the whole universe, he'd swear on it. Stars, more than he could ever hope to count and closer than they'd ever been, lit the sky in the most stunning of ways. The colors of the universe stretched out overhead, deep reds and purples that painted the galaxy in its own special hue.

   He could get lost without ever going anywhere.

   Keith led him to the very center of the room where blankets and pillows had been laid out for them, undoubtedly by their friends. Yes, it was still strange to be surrounded by talking objects, but they were so friendly and kind it was hard to dislike them. It was much easier to like them. They were definitely friends by now.

   They got comfortable in the little nest of blankets and pillows and looked up to the stars. In the mess of awe, wonder, and the sudden feeling of being incredibly small that settled deep in his chest, Lance’s voice came out as a whisper. “It's beautiful,” he said.

   His eyes, trained on the stars far above him, didn't notice that Keith was looking at him. “It is,” he agreed. When they were together, Keith didn't _feel_ like a beast anymore. He was aware of the size difference, aware of the fact that he had enough fur to knit Lance an entire outfit out of, but he didn't _feel_ like he was anything but normal. Lance was so, _so_ special.

   “There's one more thing,” he said. Lance looked over at him. Keith was wary of showing him this, only because there was no telling what Lance would see or how it would affect him. But he reached into the inner pocket of his fancy jacket and retrieved the silver handheld mirror. He held it out to Lance.

   “Last time I tried to touch this, you got mad at me,” Lance said, reaching out and taking it. “What's so special about it?”

   “It was given to me when I was… no matter. It will show you anything you'd like to see, anywhere in the world. All you have to do is tell it what you want to see and it will show it to you.” He gave a half-smile. “I know you miss your uncle. I thought maybe you'd like to check in on him.”

   Lance’s eyes had already been lit up from the excitement the sky had given him, but another light flared to life when Keith said that. “Really?”

   “Of course.”

   Lance looked at the mirror in his hand. He said, “Please show me my uncle Slav.”

   The mirror glowed in shades of purple and gold as an image took form on the surface. Lance gasped for the second time that night, this time in horror instead of astonishment. Slav was out in the woods somewhere, struggling against snow drifts and the wind, his clothes billowing out around him and the map in his hand attempting to work itself free. “H-He's…”

   There were no words to be found. Keith didn't need any. He was right there, after all. He saw the boy’s uncle. He saw the horror on the boy’s face. He heard the anxiety in his voice. His uncle was so important to him, how could he keep him here any longer? He thought of the rose, slowly wilting away and down to the last couple of petals by now. Thought of the way Pidge had told him that, according to her calculations based on the last ten years, he had to tell Lance that he was in love with him _tonight_. Allura reminded him that Lance had to love him in return.

   He remembered the little song he had heard everyone singing throughout the day, full of joy and certainty that the master’s curse would be broken and they would all get to be human again. He hated to disappoint everyone. He hated to cause them pain. It wasn't fair that they had to suffer because of him, because of what _he_ and he alone had done all that time ago.

   Even with all of that running through his head, he sighed softly and said, “Go to him.”

   “What?” Lance asked.

   “Go. I… release you. Go find your uncle and take care of him.”

   Tears welled in Lance’s eyes in an instant. He threw his arms around Keith’s shoulders and sobbed into the crook of his neck, “ _Thank you_.”

   Keith watched as Lance pulled away, stood, and ran for the stairs. After a long few moments, he looked back up at the ceiling and _roared_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance is not a beast-fucker (yet)


	8. Minimal People Skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy makes it back home, but he was never ready for what awaited his return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT NERDS I will admit that the pacing in this chapter is kinda wonky?? But I binge wrote the second half of this while waiting for Attack on Titan s2 to start airing on Toonami, so. Yknow how it is.

   “What are you _doing_ here?” Lance sighed when he heard the scratching at the door and opened it to see Pidge there, sitting on top of Rover and looking up at him with a shit-eating grin on her little cup face.

   “I followed you. I met the old man when he first showed up at the castle and I kinda wanted to see him again.” Rover trotted into the house excitedly. “Where is he? You didn't seem to have much trouble carrying him or I would've tried to help already.”

   Lance rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. “He's upstairs in his room. He's still asleep after passing out out there. Do you wanna wait for him?”

   If Pidge had a defined neck and head, the movement she made could have been defined as nodding. Lance picked up Rover and Pidge, struck with a sudden wonder as to how a _robot_ dog had been turned into a footstool, and ascended the stairs.

   Slav was comfortable and warm in his bed, covered with thick blankets and his head rested on a mound of soft pillows. Lance gently placed the two he carried down on the foot of the bed. Pidge jumped off Rover’s back and hopped up towards Slav, cozying up right next to one of his hands. Rover turned in circles a few times before lying down, tasseled tail thumping wildly. Lance returned to his seat next to the head of the bed, worriedly watching his uncle’s face. Hoping that it wouldn't be long before he came back to the world of the conscious.

   Exhaustion caught up with him without his realizing it. The last thing he saw was Pidge leaning against Slav before he fell asleep. He woke when he heard Slav gasp, opened his eyes to see Slav looking at him with amazement in his eyes. “Lance? I-Is that really you?”

   Lance nodded excitedly. “Yeah, yeah, it's me.”

   “How did you escape? I tried to get there to save you, but…”

   “Uncle, uncle,” Lance said soothingly, reaching out and laying a hand on top of Slav’s. “It's alright. I know you tried to come for me. But I didn't escape. He let me go.”

   “That horrible Beast set you free?”

   “His name is Keith, actually. He's changed since you last saw him, he really has. He's, well, actually really nice.” He looked down at Pidge. “This little one can confirm, can't you?”

   Slav’s smile widened when he saw Pidge. Pidge leaped up to surprise him if she could and he laughed in glee. “You!” Slav exclaimed. “I haven't seen _you_ in awhile. I'm happy to see that you have not broken into pieces.”

   Pidge scoffed. “Oh, come on. I told you I wouldn't. How are you?”

   “Much better! Much, much better now that my boy has come home and I've seen you again. You were the most agreeable of them all.”

   That got a grin. “Of course I was,” she bragged. “I'm the only one there who understands what you're saying about your inventions.”

   The three of them all talked for awhile, getting caught up with each other and every strange thing that had happened since they last met.

   But, for Lance, there was something missing. When he had been at the castle with Keith, he had longed to see his beloved uncle again. Slav was a worrier, he was obsessive and compulsive but not always at the same time, he talked in circles and didn't realize he was making no sense, and he probably had a running count of all of the alternate realities he had thought of during the course of his life, but he was _family_. Lance loved his family, even the parents he didn't really know, because they had been kind enough to let go of him so someone more capable could raise him. He was with his family again, so what was it that he was missing?

   “You know,” Pidge was telling Slav, “I think Lance really did a number on Keith. We all kind of figured that he'd always be a loner, y’know, since he has minimal people skills, but he's _totally_ in love with Lance. It's kinda weird, actually.”

   “Excuse me?” Lance asked.

   Pidge looked over, disbelief written across her face. “Did you… seriously not notice? Are you actually that dense? He started falling for you when he woke up in the parlor and saw you taking care of him.”

   Lance shook his head a tiny bit. “I mean, I thought he was just being friendly this past week since I saved his life and everything.” He didn't mention that Keith had said nothing when he had run off, still holding the mirror. Maybe Keith wouldn't have let him take itーwhich hadn't been on purpose, really; he just mindlessly ran, not even _realizing_ that he still had the thingーif he didn't like him at least a little. But still, it was hard to believe.

   “Holy _shit_ ,” Pidge said in utter astonishment. Lance wondered if she was old enough to be saying words like that, but hey, he wasn't her guardian. Let Allura deal with it. “He's _so_ in love with you, it was hard for me to be in the same room with you two. Allura just wanted me to be there to _witness the magic_ or whatever. She's been _super_ excited about the two of you getting together.”

   Slav raised a hand to interject. “From what I've heard from little Pidge here, yes, I am sure that he does love you. In this reality, even, not just the next one over.”

   Lance leaned back in his chair and looked _mildly_ confused. No, wait, not mildly confused. Very confused. So, it wasn't just gratitude? It wasn't just I-saved-your-life-and-you-saved-mine-so-let’s-be-friends? All of those looks, all of those nice things he said and did, all of that was _real_?

   That was when he realized what was missing. He was with his family, but Keith wasn't there. The person he had somehow or another fallen in love with wasn't there with them.

   Oh, son of a _bitch_.

 

*

 

   Lance had crawled into bed next to his uncle at some point as he worked through his emotional turmoil. Slav, bless him, was just as willing to accommodate him as he had been when Lance was just a little kid. Rover spread out over his feet and Pidge was still weaseled in between Lance and Slav. Physically, Lance was _incredibly_ comfortable. Emotionally and mentally, however… not so much.

   It had to have been past three in the morning by then, and everyone was starting to drift off towards a long sleep until there was a loud _pounding_ on the front door, startling all of them out of their calm. Lance groaned and said he'd go get the door; Slav needed to stay in bed and rest, not worry about stupid visitors at three in the morning. He made his way downstairs and to the door, yawning and grumbling to himself as he went. He opened the door and had to look up, way up, to make eye contact with the person standing there.

   He wished he hadn't. His breath caught in his throat when he saw those _eyes_ , a color he'd never seen on a Galra before. Deep, glowing purple staring harshly down at him.

   “Uh, hello?” Lance asked. “Can I help you?”

   The Galra man in front of him nodded solemnly. “I have come to collect your uncle.” He stepped slightly to the side, allowing Lance a view of the horrible carriage outside, disgusting and decrepit, with the logo of a lab painted on the side. He swallowed nervously at the name underneath the logo. Everyone around here knew what kind of business Quintessence Laboratories dealt with. They took people apart, piece by piece, trying to see if sick biological matter like diseased tissue, dirty blood, and unbalanced chemicals were all as good of a fuel as healthy tissue.

   “He never signed up for that,” Lance said softly, admittedly intimidated by the man and the carriage and _everything_. He was vaguely aware of the crowd that had gathered around in the front yard, curious onlookers interested in what the lab was doing there in the middle of the night. “He would have told me if he signed up for your program. He… he didn't.”

   The man retrieved a rolled up piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and held it out to Lance. Lance unrolled it as he heard the stairs creaking beneath Slav’s weight as he came down to see what was going on. The paper almost slipped through his fingers when he saw Slav’s signature at the bottom of the page. “He agreed that his sanity is less than perfect these days,” the man said in a very deep voice, the kind that may have been pleasant if it came from a different person. “He volunteered himself for our organic fuel project about a week ago. Since then, he has been avoiding fulfillment of our contract. I have come to make him follow through on his word.”

   Lance looked back at Slav, who was now standing just a foot behind Lance. “Is that true?” he asked.

   Slav shook his head. “No, no. I didn't sign anything.”

   The man rolled his eyes and took a step into the house, grabbed Slav by the shoulder, and yanked him out. “You agreed to our terms, Slav. You will follow through.”

   As the man hauled a struggling Slav towards the carriage and Lance was basically rooted to the spot out of shock, Lotor glided towards him. “Y-You know he wouldn't sign up for that, right?” Lance asked then, looking up at Lotor in desperation. Lotor wasn't his favorite person, but if anyone would help him, it would be him.

   “Of course, Lance, of course. I know he's not _that_ crazy.” He wrapped an arm around Lance’s shoulder, gently leading him out of the house and onto the top step. “I have heard stories of that laboratory. I may be able to help,” he whispered soothingly, “if…”

   Lance gulped. “If what?”

   “If you marry me.”

   Lance broke out of Lotor’s grasp. “Are you _serious_?”

   The look on Lotor’s face alone said that he was. “He came into the tavern ranting about a Beast. He's certainly not looking to be the sanest of individuals, now is he? I am the only one who can convince that man to leave him here.”

   “He's not crazy!” Lance yelled, giving pause to everyone in the vicinity. Though he cringed at the term, he continued on, “The Beast is _real_!”

   He heard someone scoff and say, “The boy is as crazy as the uncle!”

   His entire body ran hot with anger. He knew Slav wouldn't agree to something like that, he knew that the Beast was real and kind, and he _knew_ that Lotor was trying to manipulate him right now. He should have seen this coming. “I can prove it!” he cried, reaching into the front pocket of the blue cover-up he wore over his white shirt. He retrieved the mirror he still carried and held it up. “My uncle isn't crazy.” He said to the mirror, “Please show me the Beast.”

   The mirror’s surface sprung to life, displaying exactly what everyone needed to see and what Lance had hoped they wouldn't. Keith was there in the picture, but he was not sitting calmly the way he had been for the past few days with Lance. He was roaring, snarling, slashing at curtains with his claws. The heated blood pumping through Lance’s veins went cold. No, no, _no_. Why did he have to be angry right now? Why couldn't he have just been sulking somewhere?

   The townspeople gasped, the man let go of Slavーwho ran over to Lance and wrapped his arms protectively around himー, and even Lotor reached and grabbed at his trusty gun in its holster. “It's true,” he breathed, breaking the stunned silence that had settled across the crowd. “That thing will kill us all!”

   “No, no, he won't!” Lance replied. “He stays in the castle, he doesn't hurt anyone. He's really very kind.”

   “If I didn't know any better,” Lotor practically growled, “I'd say you have _feelings_ for that monster.” He looked back to the crowd. “We aren't safe until that _thing’s_ head is mounted on my wall!” A cheer went up and Lance almost fainted.

   “You can't do that!” he yelled. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't. This wasn't real. He'd wake up any moment now, right? “You can't kill him!”

   “Are you against us?” Lotor grabbed the mirror from Lance’s hand, shoved it down through his belt where it would stay pressed against his body, and then pulled Lance, and Slav with him, towards the door of their basement. “We can't have you running off to warn that creature, my dear.” He opened the basement door and threw Lance and Slav down into the darkened room. Then he slammed the door and Lance heard the metal bar they used as a lock sliding into place. Lance pounded on the door, screaming to be let out.

   He heard the townspeople’s war chants fading into the distance as they left and headed towards the castle.

 

*

 

   The two of them sat in the corner, Slav patting Lance’s head as he struggled to breathe properly. He was so scared he couldn't even _breathe_ , what the hell? When did he get so desperately attached to Keith?

   The wooden door of the basement suddenly rattled with an impact, effectively restarting Lance’s breathing cycle. “Hang on!” a voice called, a tiny little voice that came from a tiny little teacup. “I got this! I just gotta get this thing started! Rover, stop jumping on the door!”

   Lance and Slav waited, sharing confused glances as they heard Pidge trying to do, well, something.

   “She's starting the machine,” Slav said when Lance didn't seem to catch on. “The machine I built for the convention. It's heavy and has wheels! She's going to try to ram the door down!”

   Oh. They were already in the corner furthest from the door, but if this went poorly, well, they might not make it out alive, Lance thought. And then he mentally kicked himself because now he was thinking like Slav, imagining all of the horrible ways they could die right now in this reality. It was rubbing off on him.

   He stopped thinking about that when he heard Pidge _whooping_ outside, the rumble of a machine, the metallic rattling of wheels.

   Then the machine was crashing into the door and the door was splintering and flying apart andー

   And they lived. Pidge was laughing maniacally from her perch on the machine. “That was _awesome_!”

   “That's… not the word I would use,” Slav replied, trembling slightly. Lance wasn't sure if it was from fear or if it was an emotional response to his invention having been nearly totaled in the collision. “Still, good job.”

   Pidge grinned. “Alright, losers. Let's get you outta here. We gotta save Lance’s boyfriend.”

   “He's not my boyfriend,” Lance muttered, standing and crossing the room to the hole where the door used to be.

   “Not _yet_ ,” Pidge said as he crawled out.

   Laika was there, sitting and curiously staring at the mess in front of her. Lance hugged her and got her to her feet and helped Pidge, Slav, and even Rover onto her back before crawling on. He spurred her into motion, running off into the forest and towards the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There he go  
> (Lance is finally figuring out that he really is a Beast-fucker)


	9. His Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy was not able to stop the advance.  
> The Beast does not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye I ended up writing another mini-chapter because I dunno how long it'll take to get the next one written and I figured out how to weave in this scene so,,,, yknow. Have a thing.

   Keith sunk down to his knees after the wooden table he had thrown broke into pieces against the stone wall. He wasn't angry at Lance, nor was he angry at Slav, and he wasn't even angry at the witch who turned him into the Beast. This time he was angry at himself.

   He was a fool. How could he have thought that any of this would end well? Maybe, he thought, if he had just taken care of Slav for a night and then sent him back on his way, he wouldn't have had Lance there for any significant amount of time. None of this would have happened. He would never have fallen in love with Lance. Never would have gotten his hopes up. Had he really believed that there was any way Lance would love him more than his uncle?

   Yes. He had. And he _knew_ that it was a shitty thing to think, that he could ever replace Lance’s uncle in his heart. He _knew_ that it was selfish and cruel to think that, somehow, Lance would learn to love him enough in a week to completely forget his love for his family. But he had hoped. He had thought that he could be that important.

   Selfish. Horribly, horribly selfish. How could he have ever…

   A gentle tapping on the floor interrupted his thoughts. Keith looked in the direction of the door. Allura was there, near panic on her face. Had Keith ever seen her panic? She was always so collected, having been one of the most important figures in the castle both before and after the curse.

   It wasn't just Keith that Lance had affected, he realized, when Allura said his _name_. Not his title, not any term used for a high-ranking official. His name. “Keith,” she said, “We need you to come out of here.”

   “Leave me alone,” he said, voice rough from all the screaming he had just finished doing. He sadly looked towards the pedestal the rose sat upon, sighing heavily at the sight of another petal falling. His time was almost up. It wouldn't be long before he’d be stuck like this forever.

   “You don't understand,” Allura told him. She paused, trying to find the appropriate words to say. “We’re under attack. Men from the village are trying to break down the door. What should we do?”

   “Why don't _you_ figure it out?"

   “This is _your_ home,” she admonished. “You need to pull yourself together! You need to fight for yourself! Defeat your enemies, the way you used to say you would when you grew up.”

   He turned away from her completely, displaying to her only his back as he stared at the rose. “Let them come. It doesn't matter. None of it does.”

   Allura’s heart sank. She could see that there was nothing she could do for him now.

 

*

 

   Even with dressers and wardrobes and all manner of heavy objects braced against the door, it was getting harder and harder to keep out the invaders. How had the one at the front of the pack gotten his hands on the mirror? Word had spread around the castle that Lance had taken it with him when he left, but there was simply no possibility that Lance would have given it to anyone. Had it been taken from him?

   Another hit from the tree trunk the group was using as a battering ram sent rattles through everyone’s bodies. “I know what we can do!” Coran suddenly exclaimed. He hurriedly explained his plan, everyone around listening closely and carefully. Then they broke away from the door and arranged themselves around the room, truly embracing their current forms in a way they hadn't before.

   There were a lot of people who had been turned into _objects_ in the castle all those years ago. People who should have been awake in the middle of the night to answer the door, people who should have taken care of the woman at the door instead of the prince. A lot of them blamed themselves. A lot of them had come to terms with the fact that they would be stuck this way, and a lot of them had always been sure that somehow, in some way or another, their curse would be lifted.

   But right now, their condition wasn't a curse. It was a wartime advantage and they were at war. No human army could hide in such plain sight. No human army could fight the way they could.

   The attackers broke through the door, dropping their battering ram and slowly walking in. They looked around suspiciously, evidently looking for an opposing force.

   The opposing force was more than willing to cooperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this scene is part of the reason I wanted to make Hunk Cogsworth because Cogsworth goes hard and I love it 
> 
> Regularly scheduled reminder to come see me at twitter.com/idolisedkanan :3c


	10. Last Petal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the boy gone, what reason does the Beast have to fight?  
> That's what he thinks until the boy comes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT SO. I guess this is the last chapter. I hear the second Beauty and the Beast movie is not-so-great, so I'd like to spare myself the misery of watching that and klance-ing that one too.  
> This may be a tad bit shorter than might have been expected and I'm sorry about that but honestly I just suck at fight scenes lmao so pls show mercy

   He didn't move even as he heard the crashing from downstairs. There were a few yelps and a few howls and a few screams, but nothing seemed to matter. He couldn't bring himself to care. They would all be like this for the rest of their lives even if they won the fight, so why did it matter? Why did they keep trying?

   Footsteps reached his ears. For a moment, against his better judgement, he allowed himself to hope. He turned his view away from the closed glass door that separated this room from his balcony, desperately wishing to see Lance there. But it wasn't him. Of course it wasn't. That would be too kind.

   Instead of Lance, there stood a Galra man with a small, compact, and surprisingly fancy looking gun. The gun was pointed straight at Keith. The man grinned cruelly and said, “Hello, Beast.”

   Keith sighed heavily and looked back outside. The sky had clouded over and rain had begun to fall, thunder rolling and lightning cracking in the distance. He wondered if Lance was in his warm house, safe from the storm. He wondered if there was any possibility that Lance was thinking about him.

   He doubted it.

   The Galra man who had come into the room made a frustrated noise when Keith didn't react to his presence. There was a click, a _bang_ , and then there was a sharp pain in Keith’s shoulder and the man laughed when he roared in pain andー

   The glass door shattered rather than opening when the man kicked Keith into it, sending him falling out onto the balcony with a rain of glass to accompany his fall. Shards dug through his fur and into his skin. The pain wasn't just in his shoulder anymore, no, now it was _everywhere_. Everything hurt. Every instinct was yelling at him to get up and _fight_ , to return the pain he had been given to the person responsible. He didn't even know who this joker was.

   Wait, no. He _did_ know who he was. Lance had told him about this guy, about this Lotor fuckhead that kept trying to convince Lance to marry him. The pain pulsing through his body turned to anger. How _dare_ a piece of trash like this come into his castle, attack him, and think he’d _win_ and get to go back to the village and wed Lance?

    _No_.

   “Get up,” Lotor practically snarled. He kicked at Keith again. “Get up.”

   Keith growled long and low, slowly trying to get to his feet. Lotor raised his gun and shot again, the bastard, and Keith stumbled back from the impact of another round. He could have sworn he only took a step or two backwards, but the next thing he knew he was falling off the balcony and down onto the roof of a lower part of the castle. The air was knocked out of his lungs as he landed.

   Lotor walked to the edge of the balcony, looked down at Keith, and aimed for the final shot. He pulled the trigger.

   Nothing happened. The gun was empty. He scowled and threw it away, not bothering to look where it landed. He'd kill whoever had failed to reload the damned thing when he had asked for it to be done. He looked around for something else he could use as a weapon. His eyes landed on a decorative stone spike not far from where the Beast had landed.

   He jumped over the railing of the balcony and landed on his feet. The Beast was still struggling to recover from his fall as Lotor wrapped his hands around the stone spike and pulled with ridiculous strength, yanking it free from where it protruded on the corner of that section of the roof. It was heavy in his hands and surprisingly well balanced.

   The angle of that section did nothing to stop him from sauntering over to the Beast, chuckling darkly as he approached. “Weak,” he said. “And here I thought you would be a challenge.”

   For a moment, Keith could have sworn he heard Lance’s voice calling out. It must have been the blood loss making him hear things. Lance was far away from him now, somewhere safe. Somewhere that he could spend the rest of his life in happiness.

   Still, he looked in the direction from which he thought he heard the voice. The bridge was empty except for… wait, was that…?

   It was _Lance_. He was there with his weird dog thing and his uncle. Keith thought he even saw Pidge and Rover with him. “Lance,” he breathed.

   “ _Lotor_!” Lance was screaming. “ _Don't_!”

   Of course Lotor made no move to oblige. He lifted the stone spike above his head, hair whipping around him as the wind howled, and he swung. It was in that moment that Keith found all of his lost strength and forced himself to his feet, grabbing the spike as it sliced through the air towards him.

   He would have seen Lance dismount and run towards the castle if he hadn't been staring Lotor in the eye, growling viciously as they tried to yank the spike from each other’s grip. The wet roof finally made its contribution to the fight, sending them both stumbling and sliding down onto yet another section of roof. This part was flat and housed two long lines of fearsome looking gargoyles, both lines staring across at each other.

   Lotor took longer to stand than he would have liked, but the spike had landed close to him. He smirked as he picked it up. “Show yourself!” he yelled into the darkness, at the shadows of the stone statues. He swung the spike at the head of the first gargoyle and knocked it free. He began to slowly walk between the lines of stone monsters, taunting the Beast as he went. “Where are you, Beast? Tell me, were you in love with Lance?” He laughed madly. “I would _love_ to know why _you_ thought he would ever want you when he had someone like _me_.”

   One of the shadowy figures stood as Lotor walked past. Lightning flashed and displayed his shadow as it rose on the wall. Lotor spun around, swinging as he went, but the swing didn't connect. The Beast grabbed his wrist and knocked him off balance. The spike fell from his hand when the Beast’s other paw closed around his throat. He was powerless as the Beast stepped forward and dangled him over the side of the roof, over an edge that had nothing below it but the awful ravine that surrounded the castle grounds.

   Lotor frantically grabbed at the Beast’s arm, now desperate to live. He was supposed to hold that monster’s life in his hands, not the other way around! He was far above begging, but he was not quite against pleading. There was a difference. “Don't kill me,” he said. “Please don't drop me.”

   The Beast’s angry look slowly softened. Keith saw the fear in that man’s eyes and heard the desperation in his voice. And he was reminded of the night when that witch put the curse on him, reminded of the fear and desperation he had felt that night. The witch had not shown Keith any mercy that night. He would not be like her.

   He set Lotor back down on the roof. Lotor collapsed to all fours as he tried to catch his breath. The Beast growled only slightly before saying, “Get out. Don't come back.”

   “Keith!”

   He looked up and smiled widely when he saw Lance standing on the balcony, looking down at him and extending his hand. He hurried to climb back up all of the layers of the castle to reach him. “Lance,” he said as he reached out his hand to take Lance’s. “You came back.” He shuffled up just a bit more to stand level with Lance. He put his other hand on the side of Lance’s face and his heart nearly exploded when the boy leaned into the touch.

   Lance smiled back. “Of course I did. How could I not?”

   Keith couldn't stop himself. He didn't make the choice to say it, really. It just _happened_. “I love you,” he said suddenly. If they were separated again at the end of all of this, he at least wanted Lance to know.

   Lance’s eyes widened and his mouth opened into a surprised _o_. He was about to formulate a response when Keith let out a sudden pained roar.

   Lotor had climbed the roof behind Keith. He had retrieved a knife hidden somewhere in his outfit.

   He was above begging. He was not above backstabbing.

   Keith lost his balance and started to fall backward. Lotor lost his balance at the same time, flailing desperately. Lance reached out and grabbed Keith’s clothes and pulled him back up, but… there was no saving Lotor, not that he could feel _too_ much remorse. He helped Keith haul himself over the balcony railing as Lotor fell.

   Screaming. Screaming as he plummeted to his inevitable doom.

   “T-This is the second time you've tried to take care of me, isn't it?” Keith asked.

   “I'm sorry,” Lance whispered. He struggled to keep himself from crying. “This is all my fault. _Again_. I keep causing trouble for you.”

   “That's not true.”

   “Yes it is. You know it.”

   “Hey, Lance?”  
   He blinked tears from his eyes. “Yeah? I'm here.”

   Keith struggled to do so much as breathe. “I really do love you,” he said, fully prepared for those to be his last words. He let his eyes close. He was ready for this. He had saved Lance, hadn't he? Lance wouldn't have to go home and continue to be pursued by that scum. He could do whatever he wanted to now, absolutely anything. He wouldn't have to worry about a thing.

   He didn't fight the darkness.

 

*

 

   “Keith? Hey, Keith?” Lance asked, gently shaking Keith’s shoulders. He didn't respond. Lance collapsed onto Keith’s chest, openly sobbing now. “Don't do this," he whimpered. "I love you too.”

   It wasn't fair, none of it. And it was all because of him. If he had just gone with Slav to the convention, Keith wouldn't be dead underneath him. He'd still be alive, doing just fine without ever knowing that Lance existed.

   In the room behind them, the last petal fell from the rose’s stem.

   And then there was a light, golden and strong, emanating from each and every single cut on Keith’s body. Lance jerked back in surprised, landing on his rear and watching in shock as the light wrapped itself around Keith. The light tightened around him, shrinking as it went and somehow… shrinking Keith along with it. Lance couldn't make any sound that even came _close_ to what he was feeling, so he watched in stunned silence.

   The light dissipated. It didn't leave behind the Keith that Lance knew, though. The boy that lay before him groaned and rubbed his eyes, human eyes, with his hands. Human hands. He had human _everything_. Longish black hair fell around his face, momentarily keeping Lance from seeing this stranger. The boy looked around him, his eyes landing on Lance.

   “Lance?” he asked. The boy’s voice was so familiar, but there was no way he was capable of speaking at the moment. “What's wrong?” The boy looked down at his hands and gasped, jumping to his feet and examining the rest of his body. _His_ body. “Holy shit. Oh, God. It's over? I-I'm back to normal? Seriously? Is this a dream?”

   Lance stood. If this boy knew his name, then he didn't just come out of nowhere, right? He took a tentative step forward. “Keith? Is that really you?”

   “Yeah,” the boy said. “Yeah, Lance, God, it's me. You… what did you do? How'd this happen? Did, um, did you, by any chance, say something about loving me?”

   It really was Keith, it really was. Keith was _alive_. Lance nodded and went in for a hug. “ _So_ much,” he said. “So much.”

   Keith pulled just far enough away to kiss him.

 

*

 

   “Gay,” Pidge said as the pair walked by.

   Allura gently thumped her head. “Be nice.”

   “I wasn't being mean!” Pidge protested. “I was just pointing out that they're _super_ gay. I thought you wanted me around to see this shit.”

   Lord. What was Allura going to do with this kid?

   Pidge and Allura weren't the only ones standing around the end of the ballroom. Everyone was there, all dressed to the nines and _themselves_ again. A party had been arranged to celebrate the breaking of the spell. Nobody had seen Keith and Lance apart from each other all night.

   The band struck up a song, soft and slow. For the boys.

   “So, what, are they gonna live _happily ever after_ or whatever now?” Pidge asked, looking up at Allura’s smiling face.

   “I think so,” Allura said. “I think they will live happily ever after.”

   And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance is a beast fucker confirmed
> 
> For real, though. I've had fun writing this! Beauty and the Beast is one of my all-time favorite movies, so rewriting it with a ship I like has been a great experience. This is the second fic I've published that was a retelling of something else, and I find that it's really fun to take something you already love and combine it with something else you love, so I'm sure I'll do another one of these things sometime in the future~  
> My immediate plans involve a new fic of lotlance/lancelot/WHATEVER the kids are calling it these days where Lotor isn't a total trash can??  
> I hope everyone else enjoyed this at least half as much as I did~  
> {As always, you can reach me at twitter.com/idolisedkanan if you'd like!}


End file.
